All Strings Attached
by team-hybrid8
Summary: This is the story about how I may or may not have lost my virginity. The one topic that should not be debatable. Too bad it's not. But to know the end you have to know the beginning. And Edward if you're reading this...it's Bella and we need to talk.


**All Strings Attached**

By- teamhybrid

When I opened my eyes this morning all I wanted to do was immediately shut them. Not because my iHome was singing another song from the oh-so-popular show_ Glee_. Not because it was another day at school. And most certainly not because I wasn't prepared for my advanced English literature class. No, it was because ten minutes after I woke up I knew my entire life had a risk of changing. Many may say that I have problem with change. Many may also say that I have a sure chance of winning leadership in my school's chastity club. But, this morning everything could change. In ten minutes, that's six hundred seconds; my life could be forever altered in a way I never even imagined. I may not have a problem with change anymore. I may not have that sure chance of winning an officer position.

I may not have my life anymore.

So I do what any other seventeen year old girl would do in my situation. I flung my hand out of my bed, successfully cutting off the crude re-creation of 'Keep Holding On,' and stared at the ceiling begging any god I could think of to let me go back in time.

But, when the alarm clock chimed again after five minutes and '(You're) Having My Baby' sang throughout my room, I knew I had to get up and face myself. Which brings me to my place of inner monologue: the bathroom. I scowled down at the little white stick and cried. Three minutes, I cringed visibly, and that song will no longer just be a song. How did I get myself into this situation? I crossed my arms over my stomach and gave a slight squeeze. I'm _only_ seventeen. I'm a kid. Sure, I participated in some not-so-kid activity but, I'm not even legal. I'm not even allowed to vote! I glanced down at my watch. Two more minutes.

Are you confused? You're probably not, a bunch of smarties like you. I used to be smart. I have a grade point average that shot through the roof of the norm. I am best friends with the top of the school. Hell, I am the top of the school. If I got anymore un-cool I would have been ostracized. Actually, I am probably ostracized already but the thing about us nerds is we tend to stick together. That is until the next test; then you are on your own and have no chance of talking to me. Especially if you do better on the test. What can I say? I am competitive.

One minute. My heart starts to beat fast. Fifty-five seconds. I can't look. I'm not ready. How did this happen?

A flash of memory hits me fast and hard in the gut. I cringe. Burnt red hair, electric green eyes. Skin. Gripping. Grasping. Oh, that's how it happened.

The alarm goes off on my watch and look back at the little white stick again. It's now or never, Isabella, get a grip. I take a deep breath and flip the little stick over. I blink several times and bring the stick closer to my eyes. I may need contacts but my vision isn't this bad without them. I swirl around pick up the pink box '_Easy to read! Simple symbols that you can't miss!'_ "Bullshit!" I scream and toss the box on the ground. With violence I didn't know I could have at five o'clock in the morning I rip the stick off the counter and shake it. "Maybe if I just shake it…it will…AARGH!" I scream this time in fear, flinging the test over my shoulder.

"Isabella? Mom says to stop screaming or you'll wake Dad," my little brother Alex pops his head into the bathroom. His eyes narrow and he raises his eyebrows, "What are you doing in here?" A shot of panic runs through my system and I push his head out of the room and lock the door behind him. "Hey!" he protests.

"Go away or I'll tell everyone how you spent your break!" I yell through the door as I scan the ground for my little stick. Ah, there it is. Behind the toilet. Wow, I have really good arm. Alec protests progressively get quieter as he walks away from the door. He may be only fifteen but he takes a hint fairly well. Maybe he will get into college one day. I lift the test back up to my eye and sigh. "Division…"

I toss the test back on the counter and slide pathetically down to the floor. Life…meaning…everything…over…

This is the story about how I may or may not have lost my virginity. You're probably rolling your eyes at me. Go ahead, I deserve it I know. This is not a topic that is usually a grey area for anyone. You are either one or the either, right? Virgin or non-virgin. Or is it just virgin or sexually active? I'm sorry I don't really know the politically correct term for my predicament. I would usually take the time to Google it but I'm in the middle of a crisis right now. Anyways, as I was saying this is usually a black and white situation. You are or you aren't. No grey area to muss things up. Except if you are me it seems. Because no matter how hard I think about it I just can't wrap my brain around it. Isabella Swan had sex? No, never. It's just not who I am. Or, at least, who I thought I was. No matter how easy it should be…it's not. Maybe I should just get on with the story right? But to know the present you must really know the past. The past is the only thing that keeps me sane, that keeps me happy, that keeps me tugging to the fact that it was all worth it.

_In media res_: phrase of the day. It basically is a literature term that says the author is too much of a douche to start at the beginning and actually end at the end. I'm sorry but I really have to be a douche for this story. Remember? I have to keep me sane after all or you'll never know how we got here. I know _in media res_ sucks. Have you ever heard of the book _Beloved? _By Toni Morrison? Well, anyways, it's a book of great merit, blah, blah, and blah that basically is the master of _in media res_. I read it earlier this year before I became a moron and decided to go screw up everything. You go through the whole book trying to get back to the beginning to find out what the hell is going on to this woman. Actually it is a great book and you should really pick up a copy…before you die. Trust me, there is no rush. But it may let you understand our whole phrase of the day and make you be thankful I am not as a big as a douche as Morrison. Shit, I just feel her haters coming after me now.

So go grab your Snuggie and make yourself at home. Just don't put your feet on the couch, Mom hates that more than Hitler. She needs to have her priorities straightened, right? Whatever that's a whole 'nother story entirely.

My name is Isabella Swan. I am seventeen years old. I am borderline slut and borderline virgin.

_Cue In Media Res Now…_


End file.
